


Viniculum Meamata

by Losingdistance



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Regency, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Dark Magic, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Magic, Past Abuse, Protective Kylo Ren, Rey Needs A Hug, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losingdistance/pseuds/Losingdistance
Summary: In the 1820s, the British Wizarding World was under siege by a faction the likes of which it had never seen. Supreme Leader Snoke and his violent First Order, led by Kylo Ren, were determined to rid the world of muggles and muggleborns.When a girl with extraordinary magic, the same as his own, is dropped in Kylo's lap he cannot help but question what the Fates had planned for him. However as the Supreme Leader's regime begins to threaten what he holds dear he needs to choose between what he has spent his life building and a woman who seems hell bent on shattering what little peace he has left.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my very first work of fan fiction and also the first time I have let anyone read my writing. This has been a concept in my mind for quite some time. I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think :)

_Please_ , she thought. _Please_. All sound was almost drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears, by the thundering of her heartbeat and her harsh intake of breath. She could no longer feel her feet which was a blessing. She knew they would be blue from the cold and cut almost beyond repair from the hard ground beneath. She had been running for what felt like hours, though it could have only been a few minutes.

The forest was thick and blanketed in fog in front of her, and she could feel the small cuts and bruises she had accrued while running, just faint stings on the peripherals of her conscious.

_Please_ , she thought again as the foot falls, breaking of branches and crushing of leaves underfoot sounded closer. _I can't do this for much longer_. It was with this thought that her foot caught on an elevated tree root and a stunner hit her on her side. What little breath she had was knocked from her lungs as she fell, hearing a snap. Sudden pain shot up her arm and her vision swam. _Please let me die here_ , was her last thought as a fiery red head of hair came into her view.

* * *

 

It was as he was eating veal stew, his favourite, he might add, that the doors to his dining room were unceremoniously wrenched open by Mitaka. At the same moment Threepio apparated in, twisting his ear to the point of almost tearing it off.

"I is sorry Master. Threepio tells them the Master was not wantings visitors but theys stunned Beebee-" at this, Kylo's blood began to boil. The high pitch of the house elf's panicked squeaking only managed to increase the pounding in his head.

"It's fine, Three. Tend to him. I will manage my _guests_." At that, Threepio disapparated with a _pop_. Kylo continued to eat his stew, lest Mitaka's ramblings caused him to lose his appetite. As the man continued to stand there in silence, Kylo cleared his throat, which only caused Mitaka to jump in fright.

"Why is it, Mitaka, that you continue to barge in to my home to remind me of your own incompetence?" Kylo spat. He winced as movement of his head caused his migraine to intensify.

"M-my L-l-lord. Sir Hux has a delivery for you -"

"Ah, Ren, I see that you have deigned to remove yourself from your study this fine evening!" A nasally voice dripping with condescension boomed through the room from the front door. Kylo imagined his brain succumbing to fiendfyre at the pain he was experiencing.

"Hux. I do not have the patience nor the inclination to bend to your whims. Please do get on with it."

"Ren, you're no fun. I have gotten myself quite the treat tonight." The slimy ginger haired git sauntered in. His patronizing smile was plastered on his wan face, making him look more constipated than usual, Kylo thought.

At the corner of his eye, Kylo saw a small body levitate into the room. He glanced at Hux, only to see the unmitigated glee and dark look in his eye that made Kylo's insides roil. Of all the Supreme Leader's men, Hux was the most vile, especially with women.

He carefully set down his fork, stew all but forgotten. "If you plan on performing your usual lewd debauchery, do so on your own property. I will not permit such activity to be done on mine."

"Oh, but we used to have such fun, you and I. Don't you remember, Ren?" Hux flicked his wand to levitate the girl towards him, only to snatch her tightly in his arms in a lover's embrace. But from the girl's face and the trembling in her body, Kylo knew such attentions from this man was not welcomed.

He looked at her now, seeing the cut lip causing a thin streak of blood to run down the corner of her mouth and her chin, and a cut above her eyebrow, a dried trail of blood running to her ear. Her long brown hair was limp and knotted, caked with mud and Merlin knew what else. Her wide eyes looked at him, pleading and it caused a lump to form in his throat. He couldn't help her. But as the thoughts formed, he saw a fiery look come to her eye. Hux was thrown off her and hit the wall. His wand flew to her hand and she aimed it at Mitaka.

"STUPIFY!" she roared before the dolt even had the chance to raise his wand. Kylo watched this unfold and before she could turn and do the same to him, he cast the wordless spell and caught her stolen wand in his hand.

"Petrificus totalis," his voice rang out in the now silent room and the girl froze with her hand outstretched as if to snatch the wand back.

Kylo walked to the girl, looming over to her frozen form. Her eyes followed him, and he knew that if she had had a wand, he would have been hexed within an inch of his life.

"Impressive, for such a slight little wench," he sneered into her face. Her eyes spit venom at him. "Very much so. It has been quite some time since Hux has been caught unawares and it is about time that someone threw him to a wall. I'm envious that it was not myself who did so. However, when news travels that he was overpowered by such a flimsy slip of a girl," he tsked to indicate the shame. The girl's eyes followed as he paced around her.

He noticed the chemise she wore was torn and threadbare, almost to the point of indecency. He knew that Hux would have threatened to have her any way he saw fit, and taking her clothes until she was left in her thin chemise was a signature impulse. It had been years since he had seen Hux's handiwork, and he was curious to know why he was resorting to it now when he was no longer just a simple lackey. After all, the third in command of one of the most powerful factions the wizarding world had ever seen should not lower himself to such base impulses. To add, Mitaka had said something of a delivery. Surely this girl was not it. Surely Hux knew he had better things to do than this. As Hux was now so blessedly indisposed, he turned his attention to the girl.

"Now. I will release you on the condition that you answer all my questions with the unreserved truth," he returned to stand before her. The fire had died from her eyes, replaced with a resolve that was almost desperate. She had such expressive eyes, he found himself drowning in their hazel depths. How could someone so fragile have been powerful enough to throw off two men so quickly? Such a formidable creature in such a small frame. He caught himself leaning in to catch the scent of her - under the smell of terror and sweat she smelled of lavender. He cleared his throat, scrambling to catch his line of thought. "If I so much as sense you are lying, you will find yourself under the Imperious curse with veritaserum poured down your throat. Am I clear?" He looked into her eyes again, only to see some of that resolve sinking away. _Good_ , he thought. _Smart girl_.

He returned to his seat with a flick of his robes, pulling his chair in. Only once he was comfortable and poured himself a knuckle of firewhiskey from his decanter did he return his attention back to the girl.

"Finite," he murmured, with a lazy flick of his wand.

The girl let out a small sound of indignation that he found rather amusing and he felt his lips curl up in response. This only seemed to irk her more as her hands balled into fists. Such a little spit fire. Any other woman would have sunk to her knees and collapsed in tears.

"Sit," he iterated while simultaneously flicking his wand to push her into the chair. He cast a sticking charm to her back and hands for good measure which only rewarded him with a squeak of disapproval. The glare and audible grinding of her teeth he received was much more pleasing.

She fought at the restraining charms, hands clawing into fists around the chair arms, and he could see her straining her neck, chords clearly visible, to move. He tut-tutted, shaking his head.

"Be aware that I have had a long day. My dinner has been disrupted and I have many other pressing matters that I would like to pursue. However, it has come to my attention that my _esteemed_ colleagues," at this he waved a dismissive hand to indicate the prone forms of Mitaka and Hux to punctuate his sarcasm, "have taken an interest in you, other than the obvious debauchery that they usually dally in." He steepled his fingers on the table to prevent them from clawing into fists. He despised what Hux was doing to wizarding and muggle women alike. It was not something he liked to be involved in and had not wanted to participate. However, he was ashamed and despised himself for the acts he had to commit to appease his Master in the early days of his Marking. He could still hear their screams and he could do nothing but press his fingers together to stop them from trembling. The girl watched on with a curious look, one she seemed to tamper down once Kylo's eyes flicked back to her.

"Who are you?" He began.

"I am no one, and I come from nothing" she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

"Are you purposely trying to be obtuse?" he snarled. At this the girl cringed, and brought her knees to her chest. Kylo felt a pang at her reaction and worked to calm himself. Why he seemed to care what this girl was going through was a mystery to him. He pushed the thoughts to the side and tried with something different. "Well, it does not seem as if you come from nothing. How did you learn to perform wandless magic?" His question seemed to take her aback as her face screwed up in confusion.

"I-I don't understand. I cannot and never have performed wandless magic" she replied. Kylo clenched his jaw and sucked on his teeth. Either she was telling the truth and was absolutely oblivious to what had just happened, or she was very, _very_ skilled in lying. He was debating the benefits of pouring Veritaserim down her throat when her chest seized in a cough and blood bubbled on the sides of her mouth. Kylo barely had a chance to stand before a pale hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. Hux's face was contorted in rage, and as the girl's face twisted in pain and panic, Kylo had to dig his nails into his hands to keep himself in check. It would not do to show Hux that he had an interest in this slip of a girl.

"Hux, do please restrain yourself," Kylo managed to keep his voice from trembling. "I will not have blood on my carpets."

"I could not give two flying fucks about your carpet, Ren. This little bint has something I need and she says she knows nothing about it. But I have ways to get the information from you, don't I, little lamb?" Hux whispered into her ear, lips contorted into a snarl, as the girl whimpered.

Kylo could barely keep himself from strangling Hux where he stood. It would only take a small thought, barely any effort at all on his part. The blood lust in him began to sing. _Yes, yes, strangle him. He deserves it, deserves to suffer for trying to usurp you_ , the voice, sounding very much like his Master's, rang through his head. As Kylo watched, Hux continued to choke the girl, to the point that her lips were turning blue and within no time at all, her eyes had rolled into the back of her head. Kylo's nails broke skin as he stood, footfalls heavy with unmet need for violence.

Hux seemed to come out of a daze as he stared up at Kylo, panic rising in his eyes along with the blood in his pallid cheeks. He snatched his hands away from the girl's exposed throat as if he had been burned and her head lolled to the side. As easy as breathing, Kylo used Legilimency to delve into Hux's thoughts. T _he pendant, like clockwork, ticks when needed, stops when wanted. The pendant_ , came the small chants from Hux's mind. He withdrew, adding the riddle to the list of things he would need to reassess once the night drew to a close. At Hux's indignant sneer, Kylo breathed out a laugh.

"Your skills in occlumency have not improved at all. You should be ashamed. It was like slipping a hot knife through butter, reading your thoughts." At Hux's sudden intake of breath, Kylo held up a hand. However, as he was about to speak, the gravelly voice of their Master could be heard coming from his fireplace which roared behind where he stood.

"My apprentice. Why have I not heard from you?" Icy dread spread through Kylo's veins. He had forgotten. His weekly report to his Master was tonight. And he did not like being kept waiting. He bowed low, showing the respect the Supreme Leader deserved.

"My humble apologies, Master, it will not happen again."

"Do see that it does not, Kylo Ren. I am not above finding a better man to take your place." Supreme Leader Snoke hissed. His words were like a slap in the face and Kylo's skin erupted in goose bumps. He could not lose his position, could not leave the First Order. He bowed his head.

"Please forgive me, Master."

"Yes, yes," he waved his hand in a dismissive manner, but his piercing gaze was still locked on Kylo's own. "Are you not lucky to have such a benevolent leader? Anyone else would have disposed of you by now. Has Hux come to you?" Kylo glanced at Hux as he sidled up next to him and bowed.

"I am here, Master, ever your loyal servant," at this he smirked at Kylo, which then fell at Snoke's next words.

"Loyal you may be, but your ineptitude is insurmountable. That is why you were to take the girl to Ren." Hux's face visibly paled and then suddenly went red. Kylo wondered if it was painful to change colours so quickly.

"Yes, Master," he uttered and bowed his head.

Snoke turned his attention from Hux to Kylo. "It is of the utmost importance that the girl is searched for any evidence of the pendant. She may also have other useful information regarding the Resistance. Do not fail me, Apprentice." The flames guttered out as the last hissing sounds of the Supreme Leader could be heard.

Within seconds, Kylo took Hux by the throat and pushed him up the wall. "Do not delude yourself into thinking that your behaviour tonight has gone unnoticed, Hux. I know what you are doing," he tightened his fingers around Hux's throat, delighting in the way his eyes grew wider. "And you will not succeed. I'll be sure to tell our Supreme Leader just how incompetent you are that a woman could beat you so quickly. I will add that you are failing at your tasks set by him. Do you really think he will appoint _you_ as heir, even if he did not hear about tonight's little events?" He brought his face closer to Hux's, avoiding his flailing legs as he continued to hold him against the wall. "Get out of my house," his voice barely rose above a whisper, tone deathly calm and brokering no room for argument.

When released, Hux straightened his robes as his feet touched the ground and turned on his heel. As Kylo heard the front door slam shut he strode to the girl and kneeled in front of her. She was still breathing, her face peaceful in her unconsciousness. "Threepio," he mumbled. The _pop_ of the elf's apparition brought his headache back to the forefront of his mind.

"Is the Master needings Threepio?" he asked, large gold eyes meeting Kylo's brown ones.

"Yes, Threepio. Take Mitaka, and deposit him at the edge of the estate's wards." The elf scrambled to comply with Kylo's words. Left alone with the girl once more, Kylo shook his head. She was so thin she must not have eaten in some time, and from the bruises littering her person, Hux must have had her in his form of care for at least a few hours. He stood with a huff and undid the sticking charms keeping her body upright in the chair. Tucking his hands under her knees and behind her shoulders, he lifted her up. She weighed nothing at all. Her head fell to rest in the crook of his neck, and as he walked up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms in the manor, he couldn't remember if he had ever held someone so closely before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heir of the First Order finds himself completely enraptured by his newest prisoner of war. What will he do with her?

He pushed the door open using his large foot, and carefully angled himself with the girl in his arms through the door. The fire lit in the grate as soon as his foot crossed the threshold - a charm one of his clever ancestors had thought to place, and he wordlessly cast Incendio spells to light the candles on the night stands. Laying her out on the bed, Kylo took a deep breath. He needed to organise his swirling thoughts. His master demanded to know about this mystery pendant, which Hux had already tried to pry information of from the girl now curled on her side on the bed. What the pendant did and why his master would take such a keen interest in it perplexed Kylo. He wondered if it had something to do with his illness.

Snoke had revealed to Kylo years ago that his time was limited and had sent Kylo on the impossible endeavour to find a cure. He had been given strict instructions not to come back from his isolation until such a thing were found, or risk losing his life. It went without saying that news of the Supreme Leader's illness was to remain a well kept secret. However, it was obvious that Kylo was running out of time, and Snoke was running out of patience. Kylo ran a hand down his face. He had spent years, reading through tomes upon tomes and researching to no avail. He had used samples of Snoke's flesh, using both light and dark magic to diagnose and cast spells, to no avail. He had tortured dozens, hundreds, suspected of cursing or poisoning the powerful wizard, however none could supply an answer. Kylo was no closer to achieving his mission than he was five years ago. Perhaps this pendant could provide some answer.

Snoke also desired information about the Resistance - his mother's ragtag group of useless misfits. At the thought his face screwed up. His _mother_. The woman who had abandoned him time and time again. Without noticing he had thrown the closest object within his reach - a porcelain vase which, upon impact with the wall, shattered with a satisfying cacophony of sound. He had not noticed, however, that this had woken his guest until he heard her choked gasps. He whipped his head in her direction and saw her scrambling to get away, only to push herself up against the ornate headboard of the bed.

"Please," she whispered, "I know nothing of a pendant. Please let me go. I will tell no one of what I have seen, no one will know where I was. Just please. Please don't hurt me anymore," her voice choked on the last few words and she sobbed into the ornate cover of the bed. In her curled position her chemise had slipped off her shoulder and Kylo saw the bruises and fresh cuts that littered her back. Her ribs pushed against her skin, and he could count them all. Had no one cared for this girl at all? He moved slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal until he was near the bed, close enough to see the goosebumps on her skin.

"I am not going to hurt you. I've caused enough pain in my life," he sighed. He hunched his shoulders in an attempt to make himself smaller, less intimidating, as he came to kneel by the bed. "Tell me your name," he implored gently, fighting the urge to run a hand through her hair.

"Rey," she answered in a small voice, raising her head ever so slightly to look him in the eye. "Rey Lucas."

"Miss Lucas, you can call me Ren if you like," he said, forgoing his title. It seemed too formal, too detached. He watched for moment more as she started to rub a hand on her throat, most likely trying to ease the pain.

"You have multiple injuries that I can heal, if you like," he nodded towards the cut on her lip and head and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. After some hesitation in which Kylo could practically see the cogs in her head turning, Rey gave herself a little nod and slowly moved out of her curled position and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Taking this as permission, he removed his outer robes, exposing his detailed double-breasted waistcoat and white shirt sleeves. He could feel her eyes on him, yet steadfastly kept his gaze focused on rolling his shirt sleeves up to his mid-forearms (propriety be damned!) to allow him to move freely. Kylo moved so he was positioned in front of her and slowly moved his wand to cast multiple diagnostic charms. He bit his lip to stop the grimace from showing on his face. She had been beaten, tortured and then pieced back together with the barest care. She had internal bleeding, three broken ribs, a maligned radius and ulna which had been badly healed, a mild concussion, bruising to her larynx and multiple wounds at risk of infection. In addition to this, she was severely malnourished.

The room had been silent except for the occasional wheeze that came from the girl's throat, and Kylo tried to avoid her eye while casting the spells to prevent her from seeing his growing concern. Her face was almost at the same height as his while he was kneeling, and he could sense her eyes boring holes into his skull.

"I know that look, Mr. Ren, I've seen it countless times." she said, while trying to maintain a calm and unmoved facade. However no amount of posturing could hide the fear in her eyes. He shook his head.

"We will start with the most serious, shall we?" he said instead, fighting to maintain his focus on her wounds rather than on her face. This close to her he could not deny that she was beautiful, that he wanted to spend an exorbitant amount time counting the freckles that ran across the apples of her cheeks. He could not dismiss the notion that he was drawn to her in a way that was terrifying. He focused on the magic needed to heal her instead, steadying his breathing as he cast spell after spell. When all was healed but her bruising, Kylo awkwardly took her small hand in his. "Miss Lucas, they broke your arm but did not heal it well." At his solemn tone her doe eyes met his and she took a small gasp of breath. "I'm going to need to re-break it," he whispered, his throat going dry. Understanding dawned in those hazel orbs and tears pooled in her eyes. Yet, despite this, she nodded and cleared her throat.

"Just do it quickly." He nodded, taking her thin arm in both of his. He tried his best not to notice how much she was trembling.

"On the count of three," he said, eyes searching hers, waiting for her final nod after a shuddering breath, hands enveloping her arm as he counted, "One, two, three."  _Crack._ She let out a whimper from around the knuckle caught between her teeth as her arm lay at a strange angle on the bed, and Kylo's head swam. He could almost feel her pain so acutely that his arm throbbed. But she remained calm, taking shallow breaths through her mouth while her eyes were pulled tightly shut.

"Brackium Emendo," he stated clearly, sure to enunciate the words to ensure that the spell took the intended effect. He palpated around where her bones were once jaggedly set together and breathed out a sigh of relief when he felt the normal smooth sweep of bones under soft flesh. He winced when he noticed the already purpling discolouration where his hands had encircled her arm.

She placed her hand over where his still lay on her arm, her watery eyes looking into his. "You helped me. Those are just bruises. I have endured worse today." Her voice was so sure, so unwavering that he was speechless in the wake of her strength. However as the last words left her lips she turned away and placed the back of her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

The sight of her tears caused Kylo to turn away himself, unsure of how to proceed. He needed answers. However, he decided that giving her time to rest, rather than bombarding her with questions and demanding answers, would provide him with better results. He summoned vials from his room wordlessly. He caught them in his outstretched hand and glanced back at the small figure curled on the bed. She lay in a trance, staring at nothing in particular when he called her name. He was still for a moment, biting his lip as he watched a tear slip from her eye to the side of her nose and then drip on the pillow. He reached for her hand and placed the vials in her palm which startled her out of her stupor.

"You need to drink these, Sleeping and Calming Draught," he supplied when he was met with a questioning look. She nodded minutely and emptied the vials in turn. He cast a quick scourgify which left her porcelain skin clean. Her hair fell into soft waves to her waist and his fingers trembled, eager to touch it. She watched on as he continued to fuss, plumping a pillow before placing it gently behind her head. When Kylo stood to leave the room, she caught the sleeve of his shirt.

"Please do not leave me on my own," came her hoarse whisper. She blushed at her forwardness, but maintained her firm hold on his shirt. He looked down and away from her and nodded. He gently pulled his shirt from her tight grasp and moved to bring the wingback chair near the fire and close to the door. He removed his waistcoat and laid it on the matching chair already holding his robes, left in only his white shirt. He felt as if he might be crossing a line with this girl, being in such a state of undress, but was beyond caring for what propriety demanded. He transfigured the chair into a cot and positioned his hulking frame on it as best as he could. He heard the covers of the bed shift and soon the soft sounds of the girl snoring and the cracking of the fire were the only sounds in the room.

* * *

Hours later he was suddenly roused from his sleep by a shriek that made his blood run cold. His first instinct was to grab his wand from under his pillow after years of war, and to roll to his feet. He cast a lumos, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light before he noticed the bed was empty, that the sheets no longer covered it. That the girl was no longer there asleep. His limbs started to quake with suppressed fury. How dare she! How dare she escape. How could he have been so naive as to believe her innocent act.

He was turned to the door, about to storm out when he hears her, hears the whimpers before another shriek splintered the night. In the corner, furthest from the fire, between the ornately carved wardrobe and the wall was a small bundle. He stepped closer, wand drawn, and saw the girl curled up in a nest of sheets. Tears stained her cheeks and she was shaking so violently he thought she might be convulsing. He stowed his wand in his pant pocket. He dropped to his knees, hands hovering over her when she screamed again.

"No, no," she mumbled and he realised she was still in a nightmare. "No, I did not steal the hammer, I swear it. I haven't eaten in days. Please. I am so hungry." He watched as she curled impossibly smaller, her fingers spreading to cover her head, and whimpered. But she shifted again, reaching for him. "No, come back. Please come back to me, I don't want to be alone" her tone and reaching hands caught him off guard. She was just as alone in this world as he was. He shifted so he could sit with his back against the wall, legs spread out in front of him. He slowly laid his hand on her upper back, rubbing small circles on the threadbare material of her chemise.

"Miss Lucas," he whispered. "Mis-Rey, it's just a nightmare." But as he said the words he was suddenly pulled into her head. He was no longer sitting in the cold corner of a room in the manor, his back against the wall. The wind blew his hair violently, and he struggled to maintain his balance on the ever-changing ground. He looked at the barren landscape, unable to make out any landmarks which could tell him where he was. His ears were ringing as if he was in a cave and all sounds ricocheted off the stone walls. He turned only to stumble on a small girl, reaching for a man who was slowly disappearing from sight. Kylo could not see his face, could not see anything of him apart from his dark hair and rumpled clothes.

"No!" echoed her shrill little voice as the last traces of the man faded out of sight. "NO! You cannot leave me here! Papa! No!" She stumbled forward, hands searching the recently vacant spot of dead leaves. When her hands found nothing, she sat on the ground and brought her knees to her face and wept. Her breath came in short gasps and soon she was hyperventilating, fighting her body for air. Kylo moved towards her but his feet kept slipping. He was suddenly tossed into another landscape, another background of her nightmares.

It was dark, the only light coming from a furnace a few paces from where he was standing and the filtered sunlight from a grimy window. He couldn't see Rey, or any others in the small room. He looked up, seeing the tools swinging from hooks on the low beams of the roof. Everything looked decrepit, worn and in various stages of disrepair. Above the faint echoing sounds of horse hooves and chatter outside, Kylo could hear keening interspersed with the cracks of a whip. He felt as if he was moving through molasses, yet his feet drew him to the sounds, wandering around the corner of the blacksmith's shop to the room attached to the back. There, back bared, was Rey on her knees in the dirt, facing away from him. A man, fat from over-indulgence, raised his arm and brought his leather belt down, the metal buckle ripping through the girl's flesh. Droplets of her blood ran down to rain on the hard-packed dirt.

"I'll ask you for the last time, girl," sneered the fat man behind her, "Where. Is. My. Hammer?" he hissed each word punctuated with the threatening slap of his coiled belt in his free hand.

"I do not know, Mr. Plutt, I swear it!" her voice was strong despite the rasping sound it made, and he now understood how this girl had not withered under Hux's treatment. From the healed scars on her back, he could see that this had always been a part of her life, a constant that ran parallel with her loneliness.

He jolted back to the present, his hand still pressed to her back, his head resting against the wall. She had stilled, breath coming in even puffs against his leg. Slowly, Kylo tried to wake her, to bring her from the memories etched into her brain. For he knew that was what he had seen. It was not her nightmares, or the idle imaginings of a girl, but her life as she remembered it, etched into scars marring her flesh. She turned to look up at him, eyes wide with fear.

"Shhhh. I'm here," he tried to soothe as her face crumpled. She pulled herself up, and Kylo is overcome with the need to hold her. He hesitates, not sure if she would welcome his embrace. Before he can think about it further, she reached for him. He lifted her onto his lap, wrapping his large arms around her small, shivering frame. She tucked her head under his chin and wept, big shuddering sobs that broke his heart. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm here. Shhhh. I'm here. You aren't alone," he cooed. He rocked them from side to side, trying to soothe her as best he knew how.

Before he even realised, he hummed a lullaby his mother had once sang to him when the nightmares would wake him in the middle of the night. Her sobs had turned to hiccups, her hands fisted in his shirt. They were silent for a long time when he finally ran out of notes that he could remember. She withdrew her head from its resting place and looked at his face, an unreadable look in her red-rimmed eyes. She sniffed and placed a calloused hand on the side of his face, thumb smoothing over the apple of his cheek.

"Neither are you, you know," she whispered back. Her eyes searched his for a moment before she lowered her head back to rest on his chest. It was a while before he realised that she was listening to his heartbeat and he hoped that it was not racing with his nerves. He cleared his throat to make sure it would not crack.

"Miss Lucas, why were you sleeping on the floor?" he asked, proud to hear that there was no tremble in it. She sighed before answering.

"The bed was too soft. I felt like I was drowning in it," was her simple reply. He took time to process this before he nodded. He had felt the same, once, after years of sleeping on the floor of his master's ballroom with the other witches and wizards recruited for the First Order. Before his master noticed his propensity for wandless magic.

He lifted the hand not cradling her back to rub the back of his neck. Getting to his feet with a huff, the girl still nestled in his arms, Kylo walked across the room to the bed. Her hands were still curled into fists around his shirt, the thought causing something in him to stir. He cleared his throat before speaking again, his dark brows furrowing as he tried to concentrate on anything but the girl in his arms.

"Miss Lucas, you can let go," he whispered gently into her hair, his nose skimming her temple. It was almost as if he instinctively knew what he needed to say to make her feel better. "I'll still be here when you do." His lips curled when after a moment her fingers unfurled, leaving creases in his shirt where her fists had gripped the material.

He lowered her onto the bed, then turned to grab the sheets she had bundled into the corner. When he returned, she was fast asleep, breaths coming out in small, even puffs. And he felt himself calming at the sight. Kylo placed the sheets on her, tucking her in to make sure her feet stayed covered, and her back stayed warm. He stood over her for a moment, sucking his teeth which caused his full lips to purse. She was so small, so delicate. He cast the spell to harden the bed, something he had learned when he felt suffocated by the softness of a mattress.

As Kylo returned to his small cot near the door, he wondered, not for the first time, how such a small woman could disarm a man so thoroughly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a biggie! It took me ages to write and get how I wanted it, I needed all the background information and little hints to be here in order to get on with the story. Suffice it to say, Kylo/Ben is a bit of an indecisive prat in this one but here we go.  
> Let me know what you think! :)

Rey woke slowly, the feeling in her limbs slowly trickling into her consciousness. She felt light, whole in a way she had never felt in her life. She didn't hurt as she expected to. But the more she woke, the more the events of the past few days came back to her. Flashes of the men casting spell after spell at her, threatening to defile and torture her. She had endured the Cruciatus curse, feeling as if they were ripping her bones from her body and setting her aflame. When a break in the hexes had come, when the men were distracted by a Floo call, she had tried to flee. In their haste to pull information from her and have their twisted form of fun with her, they had forgotten to lock and ward the doors. She had tried to quietly stumble her way to the front door. But as she was opening it, the hinges gave a loud squeal to proclaim her flight. And she had used her last vestiges of energy to run, no matter how useless such a notion had been considering the state she was in. She had hoped that her attempt at escape would cause the man to fly into rage. She had hoped that in his fury, the fire-haired man would put her out of her misery, regardless of the mystery pendant. He had not. And Rey could not explain her disappointment.

She continued to maintain even breaths, eyes closed to continue the illusion of sleep. She strained her ears, waiting for any sounds of someone else in the room. But she heard nothing, only a small scratching sound near where she remembered the door being. There was no sign of the man who had looked after her, who had been the most gentle person she had encountered in months.

Rey opened her eyes, squinting at the bright light streaming through the windows. She took in the room, the pale blues of the wallpaper accented with cream and gold, four poster bed with its cream drapes. It was a distinctly female room, with flowers in vases on almost every horizontal surface. She started when she noticed the small house elf wringing its hands at the door. He wore a small grey tunic, tied at the waist. It was the one from the night before, the one that had stubbornly stood by the front door refusing the red-haired man entry. The elf the man had stunned with a stinging hex and had proceeded through the doors with a chuckle, levitating Rey all the while. Looking at the poor thing now, there was no evidence of his recent treatment, though there was a small glint of fear in his eyes. A tuft of bright orange hair sprouted from between two twin peaks of large ears. He was pale, skin so white it was almost translucent, showing dark veins and orange arteries. He shuffled over to the side of the bed, bowing so low his nose grazed the hardwood floor.

“Good morning, Miss. The master has askeds Beebee to help the Miss with her toilette before breakfast.” His voice lilted through several different octaves as he spoke, a strange inflection to his words. He glanced up at Rey, and when she smiled at him, he beamed back.

“Thank you, Beebee. And please call me Rey.”

“Miss Rey needs a bath this morning?”

“Just Rey, Beebee. And yes, please, if you aren't too busy,” her voice wavered, uncertainty and vulnerability causing her throat to close up. She had only ever had baths at Hogwarts when she had attended. Usually she cleaned herself as best she could with the rain water she collected in a bucket tucked away from Plutt’s notice, along with a handful of lavender buds she had acquired while she had been away, or received from friends when Plutt was not looking. She had yet to get used to the practice of bathing after years of going without.

If the elf noticed her hesitation, he gave no indication of it. He clicked his fingers, causing a clawfoot bath to appear with steaming water in the middle of a persian rug gracing the floor of the large sitting area. He busied himself with preparing an assortment of towels and what Rey assumed to be soaps as she slowly freed herself from the bed sheets wrapped around her and stood from the bed. Satisfied with his work, Beebee looked up at Rey, eyes studying her.

“Beebee can assists Miss Rey with bath if she prefers. Beebee helped Mistress long time ago but Beebee still remembers. Yes, he remembers well. And Miss Rey looks so much likes the Mistress.” His eyes began to water. Rey wondered if this Mistress was in fact Mr. Ren’s wife, and if she had no longer wanted the poor elf’s help or if something more sinister had happened to her. She kept staring at the small creature, watching as he continued to wring his hands as he rambled. In his haste to ensure that Rey had everything for a bath, more bottles of lotions and potions than she had ever seen, Beebee’s ear had flipped inside out. She lowered herself to her knees, wincing at the soreness of her muscles, and gently pulled the ear back. Beebee stared up at her in wonder.

“There, now. Doesn't that feel better?” She asked, smiling at the look of astonishment she had so rarely seen on a house elf’s face.

Tears began to pour from his eyes, his ears quivering and his little hands unable to keep up with the sheer amount of tears running down his face. Before Rey could even begin to think of what she had done to cause the creature such distress, he hugged her knee. “Miss Rey is so kind. Beebee has never been helped with his ear and it has always been so vexing but Miss Rey helped. Beebee thanks the kind Miss Rey. Miss Rey needs to bath. Beebee will help. He has a potion for sore muscles and the bruising. The awful bruising.” He sniffled then ran about, bringing the potions to her with excitement plain on his face. Rey blinked, experiencing whiplash from the elf’s quick changes in mood.

He tugged her hand to get her to stand up and levitated a screen to stand near the bath. He gestured for Rey to undress behind the screen and disapparated with a pop which caused her to flinch. She stepped behind the screen, removing the torn chemise from her body. She blushed to think how many people had seen her in her undress, what Mr. Ren must think of her. Casting the thoughts from her mind, she gingerly lowered her battered body into the clear steaming water, appreciating the elf’s stasis spellwork to keep the water warm. Once her body had been immersed for some time, the elf apparated back into the room holding an array of combs. He then lathered a cloth with soap from a large bottle and handed it to her, his eyes trained to the Persian carpet.

She paused when she smelled the familiar smell of lavender. Why had the elf given her lavender soap? How had he known? Her eyes began to sting.

“The master saids that Miss Rey might like this soap. Beebee has others if Miss Rey prefers a different soap,” Beebee said, toeing the carpet with eyes still downcast. His lilting voice broke her out of her reverie and she began to wash herself with the cloth. How did Mr. Ren know that she would like this scent? It did not make sense.

“N-no. No this is fine, Beebee. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, furrowing her brows together to stave off the tears she was sure would fall. Rey decided not to call her Rey, thinking it might upset his already frazzled emotions further.

“Oh, goods because Beebee has hair soaps and lotions and oils that match!” He clapped his hands together, collecting the bottles together and vanishing the others to leave only a small number of vials. She giggled then, for the first time in a while, throwing her head back. The elf’s excitement was infectious. Of course, he had probably collected a great number of scented soaps to make sure she would be pleased. He hadn’t had to have worried or gone to such lengths. She would have been over the moon with the bath itself. But at his sheepish grin, revealing crooked teeth, Rey couldn't help the small bubble of hope in her chest and a sense of companionship he presented. Maybe it was a good thing that the red-haired man had not killed her, after all.

* * *

 

Staring out the window, he watched as the sun began to rise. It was his favourite time of day when the house was still sleeping, the birds were beginning to rise and sing to the world their melody for the day. His breath created a small cloud to form in front of his face in the chilled morning air. He had forgotten to light the fire in his own rooms overnight, and had yet to have enough time to let it heat his bedroom. He turned from the window, running a hand through his ebony hair.

He had gotten too close to the girl. Too familiar. In a short amount of time she had found a way under his skin. And he could not afford the distraction she so unwittingly presented. He needed to be detached, aloof. He could not care for her. As he tucked his shirt into his breeches and donned his waistcoat, he had made up his mind. He would be rid of her, by the end of the day. By any means necessary.

* * *

 

Rey looked at herself in the looking glass. She was clean, her hair in a style similar to how she saw the ladies wear their hair in London, though she had never attempted it herself. Half up, half down, her hair fell in soft waves down her back, smoothed by a spell Beebee had used. Her dress was a light blue, of the finest material she had ever seen, let alone touched, with carefully embroidered flowers in white thread on the hem and tulle sleeves.  When Beebee had initially presented it to her, she had instantly refused. She had been sure she would ruin it simply by looking at it.

The house elf had cajoled her, telling her it was the plainest dress he could find. His mistress must have had fine taste indeed! He had beamed when she had finally relented with a huff, allowing the creature to tighten the stays that made her feel like she was suffocating. It had taken the elf an age to button up the back for her. However, as she looked at herself closely in the looking glass, despite the bruising that marred her neck and cheeks, she could have passed for a lady. Rey donned the finely knitted shawl that Beebee had laid out for her on the bed, making sure to cover the ugly purple bruising on her arm. It still throbbed, and Mr Ren’s eyes flashed in her mind, windows to the sincerity of his guilt and sympathy. She had felt so sorry for the man, had felt his anguish as if it were her own.

“This way Miss Rey,” the elf gestured to the hallway with the wave of a tiny hand, eyes impossibly big. She steeled herself for her departure from the safety of the bedroom, wondering if she would ever see it again.

Her footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, and she found herself surrounded by opulence. Paintings of all shapes, colours and sizes adorned the hallway walls, all of the occupants moving through the frames as they continued to follow and watch her and the house elf make their progression through the empty halls. Her shoes clicking on the polished and gleaming black and white checkered marble floors and the paintings’ curious whispers were the only sounds. The furniture was all tastefully upholstered and intricately carved, neatly arranged to match the paintings hanging above or the surrounding décor and suits of armour lovingly preserved, not a speck of rust or dust to be seen.

They turned the corner into the next hallway. The elf had to stop to ensure she would continue to follow as she had slowed, completely in awe of what was before her. On one side, bay windows looked out on the lake and extensive grounds of the manor, the natural light illuminating everything in a soft glow. A large pond of water with a fountain in its centre lay in the middle of it all, surrounded by a garden untarnished by the ravishing hands of winter. She glanced up and her mouth popped open. Every ceiling was either hand painted in frescoes that moved as she watched or had elaborate mouldings covered in gold. She watched as a beautifully painted knight with shining silver armour and a brilliant white horse rode past a village, running out the room’s ceiling and into the next hall, followed by a centaur, its chestnut flank gleaming as if it was running in the afternoon light.

As the elf continued to lead her through the serpentine halls of what could only be a palace, Rey could not stop feeling as if she was intruding, that she was the mud under this man’s foot. Who was he to have such a home?

She hesitated when she passed by one large painting in a gold frame, no furniture surrounding it to distract one from peering at the great beauty that was contained within it. Her deep red dress clung to her figure and flared out at the hips, her delicate shoulders and collar bones exposed. Her dark brown hair fell around her face and shoulders in smooth ringlets, highlighting the delicate structure of her face. Her brown eyes focused on Rey, emanating a warmth, but tinged with sadness as if she had seen many things in her lifetime but refused to be tampered by it. She smiled, a wide sweet smile that made Rey smile automatically in return.

“It has been quite some time since I have had the good fortune to see another woman here. Pray tell, what is your name?” came her soft voice. She spoke so eloquently. Rey made a small curtsey and bowed her head, feeling clumsy in her borrowed clothes, an imposter in her borrowed finery.

“Rey Lucas, and may I ask what yours is, Madam?”

“Padme. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Rey. I believe we will get on well together.” The woman’s lack of using her last name did not bother Rey, for what was her last name to anyone, really? It was probably not even Rey’s real name. She cast her thoughts aside and smiled at the painting. It would not do to dwell. “I trust Beebee is treating you well?” Padme raised an eyebrow at the house elf, then smiled lovingly when he bowed low, his nose once again almost hitting the floor.

“Yes, he most certainly has. He is wonderful, I am lucky to have him as my guide today.” The elf glanced between Padme and Rey, his mouth just slightly upturned, preening under the attention and then promptly shrugging his shoulders in the most human and ungraceful way Rey had yet to see him move.

“We must go, Miss Rey, the Master is waitings.”

“Oh, do say hello to Ben for me,” Padme said, her smile brightening her face again. Rey looked at her a moment more, wondering if the magic preserving the painting and the woman it depicted was wavering somehow. Because surely, she must have meant Ren, Mr Ren. Rey had yet to hear or meet another person in the manor, and by the behaviour of the men the night before, it did not seem as if there were many people frequenting these halls. Rey curtsied and smiled her assent before descending the grand staircase, hand trailing on the smooth wood of the railing. The elf led her through the halls once more, and Rey found herself once again in awe of her surroundings.

* * *

 

It was chaos, complete and utter chaos. Hux had once again single-handedly destroyed any semblance of order he had made in continuing the Plan. The Plan to eradicate all muggles in one foul swoop. If they were to arouse any suspicion within non-magical Britain, not only would they breach the already fragile Statute of Secrecy, the muggles would revolt, resulting in more deaths of wizarding kind. It could not be abided. Kylo clenched his fist, fingernails cutting into his palm. He watched as the picture on the cover of the newspaper continued to replay the scenes of muggle London. The burnt houses, the dead lying on London sidewalks for all to see the Marks of the Order carved into their foreheads.

The First Order were not barbarians! They were supposed to be revolutionists! Making the world better for their wizards and witches in arms. Hux and his Troopers had nearly destroyed every single step Kylo had made in executing Supreme Leader Snoke’s aspirations.

His fist hit the wooden table, causing his tea cup to clatter and tip, and the tea to spill over the newspaper. He crumpled it up, forming a ball of fire with a controlled wandless Incendio. When all that was left of Hux's failure was ash, Kylo stood. He would need to travel to London as soon as he was finished with the girl. He would need to do reconnaissance in order to establish exactly how much damage had been done, then eliminate all loose ends, weak links.

The muggles were already claiming that it was the work of a vicious cult, rising like an omen to signal the next disaster similar to what occurred during the Black Plague . Wizards and witches had steadfastly tried to come to the muggles’ aid through that dark time in the seventeenth century. Their potions and healing magic had significantly helped in curbing the number of deaths. But wizards were blamed for using their powers against the muggles, causing the Black Plague in the first place, and were put to the stake resulting in the Statute of Secrecy to be put in place to protect them all. And that was exactly why Kylo knew that muggles needed to be put down like the rabid dogs they were. They did not deserve a place in a world where something as beautiful as magic existed.

Kylo had only known this, had only been enlightened for half his life. Snoke had opened his eyes to the savagery that was mudbloods and muggles. And he was furious. Furious at his mother for not being able to understand this, to love the muggles enough to abandon her son. To marry a mudblood who was not ready to be a father, had never intended to be one, and had resented Kylo from his first intake of breath. He was furious that wizards had been forced into hiding, keeping their gifts hidden while muggles could galavant about as if they owned the world.

He was facing the window, his face screwed into a scowl when he heard the door click open, quiet clacks of a heeled shoe announcing the arrival of the girl, the thing keeping him from serving his master and from returning to his overall mission.

"Tell me about the pendant," he turned to face the girl, only to see her shy smile become downturned. She was magnificent, a powder blue gown accentuating her eyes and colouring so well that he felt his jaw go slack. Her hair was half up showing her elegant neck, tendrils already loose and curling around her temples, framing her face and the rest flowing down her back.

"I've already told you, Mr. Ren. I do not know of a pendant. I have never owned anything of value, nothing to cause anyone to find me and take me. To interrogate me." Her lips trembled.

"Then pray tell, what do you know of the Resistance?" He sneered.

"The Resistance?" She asked, arms folding across her chest. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

He slammed his hands against the surface of the table, the sound startling Rey, her hands flying to cover her throat as if to protect it. He leaned onto his hands as his breathing came in laboured puffs. "That is simply not true!" His voice rang through the room. "You have information. I know it! I will flay you within an inch of your life if you do not provide me with what I need." At this the girl dropped her hands, taking steps closer and raising herself to her full height, her gaze unwavering.

“I will remind you, sir, that I have survived the ire of men more determined to watch me suffer than to kill me out right. I have had years of knowing a man’s twisted need to release his fury on someone he felt was lesser than him, and I will remind you that I am speaking the truth as I know it. I have no knowledge of a pendant, no information to provide of a Resistance which stands against the twisted regime you follow and monster you call master. Release me or kill me if you have no further use for me. But I will not suffer another minute at the hand of any man. I would rather die a thousand fiery deaths than continue with this-”

“Are you quite finished, Madam?” he interrupted. She was a sight to behold, chest straining against her stays and the tantalising neckline of her dress. She had worked herself up into such a state that her cheeks and chest were flushed a pretty pink. She continued to glare at him. He was thankful she had not mastered her wandless magic nor have a wand as he was sure she would have burned veritable holes into his head. He watched as her hands curled into fists at her side. He strode over to her until he was close enough to touch her, watching the guarded look that contorted her features. He narrowed his eyes at her and bit the inside of his cheek. “You know just how powerful I am, you know I can take whatever I want?”

He reached out an arm, his hand almost touching her face when he murmured the spell that would let him into her mind. Dimly he was aware of her stiffening as he tried to concentrate, her breaths coming out sharp and stuttered with the effort to escape his intrusion. He was slipping through her thoughts clumsily. She must have been taught occlumency. He searched through her latest thoughts, finding it interesting when he saw the painting of his grandmother. He paused on this for a moment, marvelling in how she spoke before realising that in all the time that he had spent at this manor, he had never seen the painting of Padme Amidala move.

But the more he tried to find any evidence of a pendant, of the Resistance, of his mother, the more he felt his control slip. The only image he could find in her head that did not make him feel seasick was the reflection of a man he hated, his features rippling in the puddle on cobblestones. The words he was speaking were muted, as if Kylo was hearing him from far away. He could not make out a word. It could only mean one thing. Someone had tampered with the girl’s memories before she had been captured. They must have known then, that she was at risk, and rather than hide her, to get her to safety, they left her with no memories to aid the Order in finding them, of no way to protect herself.

As soon as Kylo formed these conclusions, he could feel the girl push back, her thoughts taking on a determined edge. And suddenly he was no longer in her mind, an unwelcome visitor, but she was in his. She sifted through roughly, unskilled, until she ended on the delipidated figure that was his Master.

“You... are afraid that you will never be strong enough! That everything you have ever worked for will come to nothing! And that you would have wasted your life on the wrong path and be alone!” She yelled into his face, teeth bared. He had not realised he was gripping her shoulders until he tried to turn away. He faced the fire place, looking down at the drop of blood spilled from Rey’s lips the night before and will remain staining his carpet. He was seething. His breath whistled through his clenched teeth, shoulders moving to help him get air into his lungs. He could not think. He could not feel the fingers cutting half moons into his palms. He turned on his heel to face her again. She was breathing just as hard as him, hands clenched at her side. Silent tears crept down her face but she continued to steadfastly stare at him.

“Do. Not. Ever. Do. That. Again.” he whispered, having strode so close to her that he could feel her breath on his lowered face. His eyes were almost levelled with hers when he bent his neck at this angle. And despite his anger, he could not help but notice the flecks of gold and green in her hazel irises.

If someone had tampered with her mind, it meant she had valuable information that they needed to keep hidden. It meant that he could not get rid of her until he could reverse the spell. And he would need to go against his promise to himself to once again continue his mission in his isolation and loneliness.

“You will not be leaving this property,” he proclaimed once his mind was made. He turned so his back was facing her, allowing him to concentrate on what needed to be said as he paced the five steps to the fireplace and back. “you will remain on the grounds and within the wards of this estate. If you so much as lay a finger past those wards you will find yourself going without it, losing the hand as well for good measure. You will not go anywhere without at least a house elf escorting you. You will not under any circumstances go near my study or rooms. You will do as you are told. If I hear so much as a whisper of any of these rules being broken or circumvented, I will make your worst nightmare feel like a pleasant day dream. Do I make myself clear?” as he was speaking he could feel his magic, and hers in response, vibrate the air surrounding them in their rage at each other. Once the last words left his lips, their combined magic was causing the windows to shake, the crystal chandelier in the centre of the ceiling to vibrate and make a sweet tinkling sound at odds with their violent exchange. She continued to watch him for a moment, gathering herself. Before she replied.

“Crystal,” and then turned on her heel and exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

He stood by the mantle of the fireplace, watching the ornate grandfather clock. With every tick, his left eye twitched. He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration, until all he could taste was the copper of his own blood. He realised that his interactions with the girl would continue, that he would become more and more fascinated with her and her magic, the same as his own. He became furious. He could not afford to fail. He threw the closest thing in his reach, a heavy marble bust of a long dead ancestor, and watched as it created a hole in the wall and shattered once it hit the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

She should have known that he had only been a man wearing a mask the night before. Had only helped her because he needed something from her. But she had been fooled by his eyes, dark brown windows to his soul that turned into liquid amber when he looked at her in the fire light. He was so strikingly handsome that he had taken her aback the first time she had actually taken notice of him, when he had towered over her when she had stolen Hux's wand. His angular nose was offset by wide eyes, a mouth with lips so sinfully full, she wanted to kiss him for hours, a thought she banished from her mind instantly. She wanted to trace the constellation of freckles and beauty marks that marked his skin. His dark ebony hair curled around his face, hiding his ears and she could not help but wonder if it would be as soft as it looked. He had run his hands through his hair in his agitation the night before, ruffling the neat waves she had seen him with when Hux had first brought her to him. He had worn black robes, the cut doing nothing to hide his broad shoulders.

That morning, she had blushed all the way to the dining room, hoping Beebee would not notice. When she had opened the door, she had walked into the room with her heart in her throat, hoping, without really understanding, that she had finally found what she had been looking for. She studied the broad shoulders and back filling the dark grey dress robes he wore, the way his thick hair fell to brush against his collar.

But when he had turned to face her, his eyes were lifeless, facial expression furious. And she had been confused. Where was the man who had held her close when she had cried? Where was the man who had looked at her with such regret when he had to hurt her, then healed her with the utmost care? Because this man, the one stomping around and shouting at her, was not him. And she badly wanted him back.

Fighting her tears so as to not give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him, she had fled.

She ran up the stairway, eager to get away from him. As she passed Padme, the woman called for her, trying to understand what had happened, why she was crying. But she continued to run, blindly turning into hallways she had never seen before. Padme had followed her for some time, flitting through paintings, but didn't say a word, offering her silent support. Rey had eventually slowed, her body still revolting against the violent treatment it had been put through. She sat on a burgundy chaise lounge, the velvet soft against her fingertips. Her lungs burned, her hair spilled from its careful styling. Had it only been less than an hour earlier that she was laughing with the house elf? She dashed her tears away hurriedly.  _I've cried enough over men who thought I was no better than the dirt under their shoes_ , she thought bitterly to herself.  _No more_.

She stood up on her coltish legs, the muscles uncooperative, and walked to the nearest door. Perhaps if she could just find which part of the manor she was in, she would be able to find her way back to the bedroom she had been in. The door was a heavy dark wood, plain and unmarked. The room she entered was lit with candles and was filled with a bench, books laid open while a potion bubbled in the copper cauldron in the corner, no windows to be found. She closed the door, making her way to the next. It was larger, bookshelves along every wall as high as the 10-foot ceilings and filled with books. In the centre stood a hardwood desk, large and imposing. It was laden with tomes, parchment and quills and ink sets neatly arranged in rows along its surface. She realised with a sense of terror that this must be his study, that this was his wing of the manor, and his warning flitted through her mind. She fled from the room, returning to the hallway as quickly as she could.

When she had spent the better part of half an hour running through the halls, unable to find her way back, she called for Beebee.

"Miss Rey should not be here," the little elf said fearfully as soon as his feet hit the ground from his apparition, taking her hand and leading her in the opposite direction in which she had been headed.

"I know," she whispered back, her voice breaking. "I know, Beebee. I lost my way. I need to find the room I was in before."

Beebee walked as fast as his legs could carry him, his ear flipping over in his haste. Rey took note of the turns he was making, of certain things in the hallways that, should she ever need to find her way back, she would know where to go. They walked past a set of armour that looked like it was made of a thick leather, its matte black surface swallowing all the light surrounding it. The right arm was shredded, and she was certain that whoever had worn the armour would have had the limb severed as no magic would have saved it. She stared at it for a moment more before hearing the impatient sound that Beebee made in his throat, his fearful eyes pleading with her to continue moving.

They walked further down the hall, turning right in its centre and toward a junction where there was a chipped red vase on a centre table, a right turn, a left turn at the large chair with the blue lilies embroidered in the upholstery, another right turn, followed by a long straight hall which led to what looked like a dead end. However, when they reached it, Beebee turned left again, leading her to the familiar balcony and Padme's painting. She was not in it, and Rey regretted not speaking with her when she had called out her name. She resolved herself to speak with her once she was back in her rooms, had had a chance to think through her options, and ask the lady for her help.

* * *

Kylo felt as if something was fundamentally wrong. He had thought that perhaps his migraine had returned from the night before. But as he sat at the dining table drinking the last of his tea and reading the correspondences from his subordinates, the headache had still not manifested, and he still felt ill. And if he was honest with himself, which he has not been as of late, it was from the moment the girl had appeared in the room and had promptly left. He had felt something in his magic pull when they had caused the windows to vibrate, his magic responding to hers, and then snap when she had left. And he felt different. Wrong in a way he could not understand. Unable to concentrate on the words blurring on the pages, Kylo stood, looking out the window at the white caps on the surface of the lake, the gale wind blowing in as it usually did in the late morning.

"Ben." His heart stopped. He spun on his heel so quickly he toppled over the nearby chair he was leaning against. He expected his mother, her firm voice, dominant presence and disappointed eyes once again laid upon him. But he saw nothing, no one.  _Perhaps I will need to go to St Mungo's mental asylum after all_ , he thought sardonically to himself.

"Ben," said the unfamiliar voice once again. He twisted, trying to locate the sound when he noticed the lone figure in the painting above the mantle, surrounded by nothing but trees and a never-ending night. There, standing in a clearing in all her glorious eternal youth, was his grandmother. He watched as she placed her hands on her hips, a movement so reminiscent of his mother that he instantly felt like running in the other direction, hands covering his backside to stop the inevitable thwacks that would come from her well-aimed slipper. He shook his head to rid himself of the impulse. He was no longer a little boy who could get a smack from his mother. He wondered if Leia had ever met this painted version of her mother.

"Benjamin Solo. Explain yourself this instant," she seethed, eyes flashing.

"Grand'Mere, lovely to make your acquaintance," he said, disregarding her clenched jaw. He bowed ever so slightly, the only form of respect he would show her.

"Explain to me why that young woman was so distressed!" came her shrill voice, hand pointing in the arbitrary direction of the room he had placed Rey in the night before.

At this he stuttered, the feeling in his chest tightening. "I do not have the slightest idea of what you mean. Nor do I need to explain myself to you." He turned away, hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, Ben." She said so softly that he pivoted back to face her. Her form magnified as she stepped closer until only her face and shoulders could be seen in the painting. "You do not understand, but you will. I was the same when I first met Anakin."

"You are right, grandmother, I do not understand," he replied simply, brows furrowing, lips pursed as he sucked on his teeth. He stepped closer to the painting and raised his eyes to her smiling face. She seemed wistful, soft in a way his mother had never been. "The girl means nothing to me. She is here because I need information from her, and that is all."

She quirked an eyebrow at him but remained silent. He let out a long-suffering sigh and closed his eyes. "Please do not try and derive more meaning from this than what there is. She cannot leave this manor until I have the information for Snoke," at this, Padme's face turned positively glacial. "I have my work, I do not have time for this, Grand'Mere. She is but a simple girl."

"By keeping her here as a prisoner, you do not know what you are doing, Ben –"

"Madam, you will refrain from calling me by that name," his voice was soft but there was no mistaking the hidden malice in it. Her words agitated him, calling Rey a prisoner pulled on something in his chest.

"Of course," she said, her tone sickly sweet. She curtsied ever so slightly, face a mask of icy detachment as she backed away and turned to walk out of the painting.

The Fates really had it in for him, he thought. Before the girl had come, he had had nothing but books and parchment to keep him occupied. Now he had the company of two women – one he did not understand, nor know how to handle, the other sticking her nose into his business. He did not know what he wanted more – to run out the closest window or drown his sorrows in the nearest bottle of fire whiskey. Deciding that neither were conducive to getting his work done, he settled himself back into his chair, his chest still uncomfortably tight, his skin crawling from his grandmother's words.

* * *

Rey sat on the love seat in her bedroom, staring out the bedroom window. Her mind ticked through ways she could get out of the manor, to escape. A snapping of a twig caught her attention and she twisted to peer into the painting above her head.

"Dear Rey," said Padme, hands folded neatly in front of her. "I am so glad to see you are alright. I was worried."

"I am so sorry, Padme," Rey tried to smile as best she could, tried to reassure this woman that she was strong, that she was worthy of friendship. "He will not let me leave."

"No," she agreed, head shaking ever so slightly, disappointment clear in her eyes. "No, he will not."

"Is there any way for me to escape? Any way to get out of this place without triggering his wards?" she asked tentatively, unable to stop the hope from trickling into her voice. But as Padme's face changed into one of regret, Rey turned, unable to hear anything further. "Oh," was all she could say.

She called Beebee once again, declining the offer for food to be brought and instead asking for a quill and parchment, stating that if the master asked, she had no intention of writing a missive, that she simply wanted to sketch, and wanted to be left alone.

Once she was set up with her very own stack of parchment and Padme's old set of watercolours which Beebee had found, Rey started to draw for the first time in years.

* * *

"She has not eaten in two days!" Padme's sudden appearance in the painting next to his head almost caused him to blast the whole wall down with a  _Bombarda Maxima_. As it was, Kylo's heart raced, magic dancing on his fingertips. He bit his lip to stop himself from cursing the painting, unsure whether it would be a shame to lose the only connection he had to his grandfather or grant him a small amount of peace to have one less soul in the house.

For the last two days he could almost swear he could feel Rey's hunger pains but decided it must be his belated guilt. He could not concentrate, and he could not sleep, and he had been more agitated and irate than usual. He had been and gone to London, pleased to see that some progress was being made in obliviating the muggles who had seen anything, the ruins being put together enough so that it only looked like a gang had gone through, not an entire army. It had taken the better part of two days to reverse some the damage, time in which he had seen neither hide nor tail of Hux. Lazy coward.

He breathed in deeply to try and control his heartbeat. "And what do you wish for me to do, Grand'Mere? I can hardly force her to eat. And I doubt she wants to see me."

"Just try, Be-Ren. Go see her. It is as if she is in a trance. She has not eaten, she has not slept. She has done nothing but sketch for -"

"Sketch?" he interrupted.

"Yes. Sketch. Oh, come now." she admonished when she noticed his scowl. "It is hardly as if she is trying to escape. She asked Beebee and Threepio if she could go outside but both refused saying that it was forbidden. I assume you mean to completely isolate that girl and make her miserable?"

"She is not a guest in this house! She is to remain until I find a way to get the information from her! Then, and only then will I release her and take her back to the miserable little corner of London that she came from."

"Go see her. Show her the library. She might like the books," she smiled encouragingly.

"Absolutely not. I will not just wander into her bedroom. And she is not a guest!"

"Do as you please. But mark my words, Benjamin, you will lose her if you do not remove that stick from your rear!" and with that she left again.

"Oh, for sweet Circe's sake," he whispered under his breath, bending his head back to rest on the back of his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. She was right, in a way. He had made no progress with his research in the little time that he had been home, knowing that he would need to go see the girl if he was to understand the memory charm placed on her mind. And he had avoided it, afraid of the feelings the girl stirred.

He stood with a groan, the muscles in his limbs having gone stiff from how long he had sat in one position.

He was thinking through what he could say to Rey, scenes playing out in his head. He just wanted peace. He just wanted his grandmother to leave him alone. He wanted this guilt and agitation to go away. A small part of him wondered what it would be like to see Rey laugh, to see joy in her eyes rather than fear or anger. And without realising he stood before her door, sighing through his nose and closing his eyes. He knocked tentatively, hoping that maybe she had finally fallen asleep, or left her room, and he could leave without her ever knowing he had come to see her. But his luck had left him, it would seem, because there she stood, long brown hair framing her face, guarded eyes surrounded by dark circles staring up at his own.

"May I come in?" he asked, swallowing hard to try get rid of the lump in his throat.

"It is your home, you may do as you wish," she shot back as she stepped away from the door, looking at the wall next to him.

He couldn't help staring at her a moment longer, the robe covering her willowy frame, hair wild and brushing her waist. Was there any time this woman wasn't breathtaking? Her lips were drawn in a thin line and there was a smudge of charcoal on her cheek. Her fingers were covered in ink and the black dust of the charcoal she had been using. And she was beautiful. He stepped over the threshold, trying his best not to let any bit of himself touch her in case it would scare her away.

"Have you been drawing?" he asked by way of starting the conversation. He watched as her cheeks grew pink and she looked down at her feet.

"Yes," was all she supplied him with. He clenched his fist. Why was she making this so difficult for him? He only nodded, acknowledging that he heard her, and walked to the wingback chair he had once transfigured into a cot. He watched on as she stood near the door uncertainly, teeth gnawing into her plump bottom lip. He was overcome with the need to rescue it from its rough treatment, to run his thumb along her lip just to see how smooth it was. The thought made blood run south and he placed his ankle on his knee, trying to hide some of the situation going on there. He sucked on his teeth for a moment more, frustrated at himself for not being more charming. Could he have not inherited that trait from his father, rather than the large nose or chin?

"You haven't been sleeping." He did not say it as a question, he didn't need to. Her disposition was evidence enough.

"Does that go against your bidding as well?" before he could get a word in edgewise she continued. "Oh, master tell me what else displeases you? Since I am now your prisoner, pray tell, what is it that I can do? I can barely leave my room without that pompous house elf rattling off rules and restrictions. I just want to go outside and he almost had a litter of kittens! So please tell me, Mr Ren, what it is you want me to do. Because I am going out of my mind in this room!" she was looming as well as a woman of her height could over a man as tall as himself. Her eyes were bright and furious. And he felt guilty.

He was reminded of a tigress that had been captured and brought to a circus in London that his father had once taken him to. It was the only outing his father had taken him on. With good reason. Seeing the animal so distressed had upset young Ben, had caused him to lash out unintentionally, a ball of fire he had conjured causing the place to go up in flames, a wandless  _Bombarda Maxima_  causing the animal cages to bend and warp, allowing all the animals to escape. His father had panicked. Had told his mother that he was uncontrollable, too powerful and that he should be sent away. And it had caused a shouting match in his parent's quarters that lasted for days. His father had never looked at him the same way again, a hint of fear and distrust in his eyes that never went away.

And this woman, with her hair in wild waves and hands flying to illustrate her point, was just as wild and cornered as the tigress had been. He continued to stare at her as she bit her lip again, cowering away from him as if he might hit her for speaking her mind. His heart squeezed, the sensation causing him to stop breathing. Merlin, this woman made him feel things he had long since thought he would never experience.

"What if we made a deal, Miss Lucas?" he asked as he turned his head to peer out the window.

"A deal?"

"Yes," he stood, sauntering over and looming over her small frame. She was so small, he had forgotten in the wake of her ferocity. She looked up into his eyes, tongue flicking out to wet her lips. She must have seen him staring because her cheeks flushed pink once more. He saw a hint of trepidation flit across her features, her hands ball into fists, her breath caught in her chest. "You will be able to roam the grounds as much as you please, for as long as you please. However, in exchange you will meet me in the dining room every morning for breakfast and at the strike of noon you will be there so I might study the memory charm placed upon your mind." Once he was done speaking, she let out a breath. She seemed relieved.

"I thought you were going to…" she immediately stopped talking, her mouth closing in an audible  _clack_. She looked down at her feet and swallowed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth again.

He placed his finger under her chin to lift her face, so he could see into her eyes, the fear once more crossing her features. "Going to what, Miss Lucas?" She forcefully pulled her head away, turning her back so he could not see her expression. Her arms wrapped around her waist, slim fingers cupping her elbows.

"After everything I've been through, Mr Ren, can you not guess? I know you saw my dreams that first night. You know what Hux had had in mind for me." He was silent as she drew in deep breaths, her whole body shuddering. "Can you not guess?" She whispered. It took him a moment to understand. He physically recoiled at the thought.

"You must know, Miss Lucas. I – I'm not like that. I do not – will not ever." He could not get the words out from his dry throat. His stomach had dropped to his feet. Did she really think him so despicable as to do that to her? "Please," he rasped, his bottom lip trembling. At his mumbled word, she faced him. Her eyes were filled with tears but she nodded, telling him she understood.

* * *

He had stood there for a moment more, watching her with a broken expression on his face. She could feel his anguish, as if his emotions were tied to his magic, and calling out to hers for comfort. But her feet remained planted on the floor, even as he stood there, even as he strode away, even as the golden eyed reticent house elf apparated into her rooms with a tray of delicious food levitated behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review to tell me what you think! Or kudos :) anything to let me know I should keep going with this...


End file.
